Red Dress
by livelyfingered
Summary: The many times Austin admired her from afar, and the one time he just couldn't take it anymore. / AustinAlly. Twoshot; fluffy snippets. For polkadotty.
1. Chapter 1

_**Red Dress**_

The many times Austin admired her from afar, and the one time he just couldn't take it anymore. / AustinAlly. Oneshot, may become a twoshot; fluffy snippets. For polkadotty.

**A/N: Here's a short oneshot that **polkadotty **requested. Many thanks for your support and kind words—and what an appropriate prompt you gave me, haha. I honestly don't know if you'll like this… but it's for you! Enjoy.**

**:::**

"Don't you think her skirt's a bit on the short side?"

He grumbles it nonchalantly, partially hoping that his comment will go unnoticed. Instead, Trish whirls around and says in a low tone, "Maybe it's just your imagination." She gives him a knowing, teasing smirk and gestures vaguely in the direction of Ally's legs.

But he refuses to come across as even slightly materialistic. He is not motivated by a smoothly sculpted lower body—it doesn't hurt, but frankly he's drawn to her raw intelligence and that she does, in fact, have moral standards that she adheres to.

Then he sees some mediocrely attractive member of the male species sidle up to her, and he figures it's time to mark his territory. Ally isn't property, and he's not about to let some inferior guy take her away from him.

He refuses to be labeled as materialistic, but sometimes he wishes she were his.

:::

It takes every ounce of his admittedly limited self-control, but he reasons himself out of it.

Now is not the right time to grab her hand, even if he were to do it subtly. She's wearing red because—and she'll never say this—Trish hinted that he'd like it on her. All he can mentally process, however, is that Ally is wearing red and that Ally looks good in red. Ally, therefore, looks very, very pretty. That's a given.

And if he were to crack a math joke now and say he was using the transitive property to equate Ally looking good and Ally wearing red, she'd probably appreciate it.

But being the hormonal teenage boy he is, he chickens out.

Again, that's a given.

:::

"Two lovebirds in their natural habitat," narrates Dez. "The male bird seems to be plucking up the courage to engage in a courting ritual with the female bird."

Said male bird is torn between high-fiving Dez and strangling him. After all, that "plucking" bit was quite a well-structured pun. Less appealingly, it had been conceived primarily to annoy.

Yeah, Ally was undoubtedly rubbing off on him. His vocabulary had expanded twofold in the past few weeks, and that wasn't counting the copious amounts of time she spent practicing the piano these days.

:::

She's wearing another red dress, and he is physically incapable of keeping his eyes on her face. It is perfectly healthy, he assures himself, for adolescents to become exceptionally receptive to romantic bouts. It is decidedly not healthy, however, for suppressed youths to go for months without expressing their feelings.

_Release_—and don't take that suggestively.

Release; in the sense that a figurative dam is steadily and stubbornly blotting out the natural flow of his attraction, and that it's only a matter of moments before the dam finally overflows and floods its gates. Release; in the sense that to him, she is beautiful in every way possible, and that he doesn't give a damn how pathetic that sounds.

He needs to show her how he feels, and now's the time.

The time is now.

:::

**You can take from that what you will ;-)**

**Again, my sincere thanks to **polkadotty**—this is for you. Think about reviewing and putting this on your favorites list: I'm also considering writing an epilogue… yes?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Many of you been asking for a continuation, so here's the next (and final) chapter! By the way, great things are in store for our favorite ship. I'm so honored to be a part of this amazing community—we were brought together through a common supported pairing, so let's stay together. All right, enjoy! Thanks to **polkadotty **for the prompt, and special shoutout to **JasmineLief **and **PoetryRebel** for their encouragement on this. Finally, a little extra nod to **PoetryRebel** because I temporarily borrowed the theme of rain… you'll see.**

**:::**

You know the feeling you get when—after months of pining away and throwing inconsequential flirty grins and bestowing stupid little compliments—you finally discover something that points to a possible returned interest? For a short-lived few days, you're ridiculously, outrageously cheerful. But after the initial high, you lose sight of that little heavenly piece of reassurance and you promptly crash down again.

Yeah. That's how he feels.

He hasn't actually been turned down, but he hasn't actually been accepted, either. Maybe it's because he hasn't _actually_ confessed to her.

But he's definitely tried.

:::

The hug's a bit longer than usual. Even so, he seems unfazed.

"Austin?"

"Mhm," he mumbles. His eyes don't cooperate with his brain and stubbornly refuse to stay open; they flutter shut and for a moment he contemplates the world through a condensed perspective. Tingles ripple through the place where his neck fits snugly against her shoulder, but that's really nothing new.

"Uh—" she stutters. It's just a little disconcerting to be wrapped in someone's arms for more than a few seconds, especially when you're standing up. It's not _bad_, per se, but they're not dating and bystanders are starting to think they are.

"Yeah," he breathes near her ear. The tiny disturbance dances with the skin along her earlobe, and small goosebumps rise, as if yearning for some contact. And yet, she refuses to jump to conclusions, because she'll need a little more proof to be sure.

_Wow_, thinks Trish, who is smiling widely from behind the piano, _can you say PDA?_

_Gee_, ponders Dez at the same time, _Austin's really nervous._

(If Austin and Ally don't get together soon, Dez and Trish will make it happen anyway.)

:::

The first droplets of spring rain arrive. They patter down gently, quietly, as if to say that not all is lost. There's still a decent amount of luck left in him, but it's dwindling.

What happened to the time that was now?

:::

He's reasonably convinced that she's actually trying to torture him.

Who in their right mind would _ever_ run out into the rain without an umbrella or rain gear of any kind, laughing and twirling to no end? Oh, that's right. Ally would.

He knows he looks _super extra _lovesick racing after her—especially since he doesn't have an excuse to do so. If he had a coat or something, he could totally give it to her. But he's clad in only a t-shirt, so he can't wing it.

It's official. This is not a crush.

"Ally," he pants. "Ally, you're going to catch cold."

Her eyes shine up at him, serving as vessels through which he catches a glimpse of just how excited she is. "No, I won't. Not if I do this—"

She pulls him down, and her fingers tangle into the front of his shirt, and suddenly he's lightheaded and dizzy because _has he mentioned that they're kissing in the rain?_ His arms loop uncertainly around her waist, but tighten when she tugs at him insistently.

Besides, who is he to judge how cliché that sounds?

:::

He still hasn't told her, but he thinks she knows.

After all, at this point they're literally soaked to the skin.

And they haven't budged.

:::

**How was that for a finale? I hope you enjoyed it—and this was definitely a fun prompt! Thanks again to **polkadotty** for the idea and to **JasmineLief **and** PoetryRebel **for their support with this fic ;-)**

**Reviews are highly appreciated! :-D**


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